The Macarena
by WickedForGood13
Summary: The first kiss of the girl and boy who waited.


"Come on, Rory – it's not that hard," Amy exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Amy, this _is_ the Macarena we're talking about. I'm required to swing my hips, and I just don't have the coordination for that." He attempted to imitate Amy from when she had previously demonstrated the dance she was now trying to teach him, only to cause Mels to start cackling from her perch on Amy's backyard swing.

"Oh, shut up, you," said Amy, shooting her best friend a mock-glare.

"No way – this is too much fun." She was clapping her hands excitedly, as though they were on a game show and she knew all the answers.

Rolling her eyes, Amy turned her attention back to Rory, who had been attempting to slink off somewhere and hide. "Oi, come back here," she ordered, pointing a finger at the ground in front of her.

He returned, standing in front of her like a soldier at attention.

"Come on, Rory, loosen up," she said, grabbing his hands and starting to swing them back and forth in her own. Slowly, as he began to relax and go with the flow, he realized how much he enjoyed Amy's teaching and guidance. "Now," she said, bringing the 'lesson' back to order. "Put your hands here," she said, indicating precisely where on her own body his hands should fall, "And sway to the beat."

"What beat, Amy?" asked Rory, sounding panicked.

"The one in here, stupid face," she said, tapping him on the temple. "Now, do just what I showed you."

He tried again, but to no avail. Rather, he looked like he was having a fit of some kind, prompting Mels to break out into peals of laughter once more. Meanwhile, Amy was attempting to hide a smile behind her hand. "That's not _quite_ it," she said at last, once both she and Mels had regained their composure. "Here," she said, much more gently. "Put your hands on me, where I showed you before, and do as I do."

Rory's mind went blank after the words, 'Put your hands on me.' He only came to when he felt Amy tugging him into position. And then, she was moving, and it was like poetry in motion. He stared unabashedly at his girlfriend, the one he was lucky enough to call _his_. After years of pining for her, and with a little help from Mels, they'd finally gotten their act together. Well, more specifically, _she'd_ gotten her act together. But he couldn't blame her for being hung up on that Raggedy Doctor. He did sound like the ideal hero for a kid. He shook his head when he realized that now _Amy_ was staring at him, though probably more out of concern than anything else.

"Are you alright?" she asked, peering up at him as though she could deduce the truth from his eyes alone.

"I love you," he said instead. And though it was true, he'd wanted the first time they'd said those three all-important words to each other to be more romantic … _not_ when Amy was trying – and failing – to teach him to dance.

However, she didn't seem to mind the circumstances, as she had currently connected their lips and was doing things with her _tongue_ that he hadn't known were possible. Just in time, he remembered to respond, and then _he_ was kissing _her_. Everything he'd heard about first kisses when he was younger – you know, fireworks, bells, all that jazz – couldn't hold a candle to what he had with Amy. This kiss, their first, was so much more than the storybooks promised – it was so much _better_.

They pulled apart – since when had oxygen been so important? – only to continue to gaze starry-eyed at each other. They were torn unexpectedly from their reverie, though, by Mels whistling at them. "I called it – that's all I'm going to say," she said, before walking away. "I'll see you two later," she shot over her shoulder.

Neither Amy nor Rory acknowledged her words or her departure. They were too busy staring into the other's eyes, willing their minds to capture this moment forever.

"I love you too," Amy whispered hurriedly, almost as thought the words had the power to burn her.

Rory kept his hands situated on her waist, enjoying the feel of her stomach muscles contracting and expanding as she took in quick shallow breaths of air. Obviously, their kiss had thrown her for a loop as much as it had him.

"You don't have to say it yet if you don't want to—" Rory began, her previous words not yet registering.

"I just did, stupid face," she interrupted, as exasperated as she had been when this whole ordeal had first started.

"Oh," he said slowly. "Say it again," he pleaded with her after a moment's pause.

"I love you, Rory Williams," she proclaimed. "And I think I always have. Everything has always been, and will always be, about you. I love you, and there will never be another who could ever own my heart as completely and utterly as you do."

Amy's declaration moved Rory deeply, and before he knew it, he was crushing their lips together again. He thought Amy might object to the sloppiness of this, their second kiss. But she was responding with enthusiasm, so he kept on doing what he was doing.

And thus, the fairytale of Amelia Pond and Rory Williams was born …


End file.
